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Archives from 2002-2006

March 28, 2007

I had this feeling like I should change the subject (although holy shit you guys crack me up). Hey look! It’s Cat, baleful and no doubt plotting to eat the flesh from our faces:

And Dog, demonstrating all that is stupid and good in the world:

Also, the boy is suspicious (FOR A CHANGE):

So I could use your opinion on some kitchen-remodel stuff. First, what do you think of the paint color on the left?

That is Benjamin Moore’s Powell Buff, the right color is Golden Honey or something like that. Too yellow, I think. The granite color is in front, I think the Powell color looks pretty good with it but as I’ve stated before, I’m kind of a dumbass about this stuff.

We also have to decide what sort of built-in furniture we’ll be putting into the small breakfast nook that will be built. JB likes this style:

It comes from this website, we can basically ask the builders to match some existing design. What say you, would that type of nook seating go okay with the cabinet style we’re choosing?

Finally, I’d like to state for the record that not only is it never too early to start with the Red Bull, apparently in our home there exists a helpful Can Pickup Fairy whose job it is to trail the male adult all around the house tidying after his little aluminum remains. I can think of no other explanation, anyway, for THIS:

March 27, 2007

Today I am wearing a pair of jeans that have not fit since several months pre-pregnancy, so here’s a big old middle finger for the bathroom scale, and a jaunty cry of “Sit and spin, motherfucker. RIDE STOPS AT THE ELBOW.”

The only problem is that these jeans are old enough that they’re out of style. Believe me, I’m no fashionista, but jeans have changed in subtle ways from this once-trendy Gap variant—this pair is slim-fitting, stretchy, with a flared leg (rather than the noticeably different boot-cut) and a waist that, oh my god, sits at my waist. That’s right, I’m currently wearing what must be the last earthly pair of non-low-rise jeans. It’s weird and maybe less comfortable in some ways and I will freely admit these don’t give Good Ass the way low-rises do, but it is a refreshing sensation to be sitting down and not have half my lower body creeping up over the waist of my pants. I hardly know what to do with myself with all the free time I normally devote to furtively hauling up my southward-bound denim. Maybe I should take up knitting.

I’m glad to be distracted by the simple dumb happiness of wearing previously too-small, currently unfashionable jeans because last night before bed I was reading How We Die and wallowing in some fascinating stuff about pathology and clinical death and all of a sudden amongst the technical descriptions of myocardial infarctions and cerebrovascular accidents there was this gut-wrenching account of a little girl’s violent murder, which happened for absolutely no reason—she was randomly attacked by a knife-wielding psycho, right in front of her family—and went on to describe in vivid detail what happened to her body and included a first-hand account by her mother and jesus, it was probably the most horrible thing I’ve ever read in my entire life. I put the book down and turned off the light and I am not even lying when I tell you I forced myself to think about zombies because anything was better than dwelling on that little girl’s death.

I was still kind of haunted by that story this morning and thinking that while I sort of wish I could go back in time and skip that chapter, it gave me a chilly wash of perspective that’s actually helpful right now. We had a hard night with Riley yesterday and I was so frustrated and feeling hurt and unhappy, and while I don’t discount our own challenges it’s good for me to focus on how fortunate our lives really are. Break my heart all you want, little boy, just please, please, please be safe, forever and ever and ever.

:::

Did I mention zombies? I think I did! How about a wedding party doing the zombie “Thriller” dance? Knitted zombies? Zombie blog? How long before zombie muscles deteriorate? Zombie preparedness kit? Zombies attacking an Apple Store? OH ZOMBIES I FEAR YOU LOVE YOU FEAR YOU LOVE YOU SO.

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